


Castles Made of Sand

by lennons_lemon_queen



Category: Queen - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-09-12 23:22:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennons_lemon_queen/pseuds/lennons_lemon_queen
Summary: Freddie Mercury is always surrounded by his closest friends. His journey to become a rock n' roll star is a bumpy one, but it's one he doesn't have to take alone. Join Roger Taylor, Brian May, and John Deacon, on this fresh take on the forming of Queen and the life of Freddie Mercury.





	1. White Queen (As It Began)

1969

Sunlight shone through the cracks in the Venetian blinds, illuminating the dust particles floating around in the small flat. One of them delicately landing on a scruffy cat’s nose. The cat shook and lept onto the arm of the couch with a little mewl. There was a large lump on the couch covered in faux fur. An arm dangled from the pile an inch from the embroidered carpet, and when another cat nipped a finger—the pile jumped up with a high-pitched howl.

The fur blanket fell to the floor to reveal a disheveled young olive-skinned man with dark hair and smeared eyeliner.

“Delilah, must you?!” He spoke to the cat on the floor next to him. Delilah meowed and trotted off. “Oh, God I must’ve slept in…” The young man muttered to himself as he walked about the flat in a silk pair of trousers. He set the needle down on a dusty record on his turntable and slipped a robe on before walking into the kitchen to find a bite to eat.

A knock sounded at the door and he ran from the kitchen over to the front door, box of cereal in hand. A long-haired blonde man stood in the doorway.

“Freddie, you’re an hour late. I’ve already ‘ad to open by myself.”

Freddie smiled, his large front teeth protruding just past his pouting lower lip. “But I’m up now, Roger dear.”

Roger rolled his blue eyes and took the box of cereal from Freddie’s hand. “Just put some clothes on, and meet me there.”

Freddie made a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

Freddie and Roger ran a vintage clothes stand in downtown Kensington Market. Which, at the time, was a very hip place to be. Freddie had known Roger since he first started following his rock band Smile throughout London. He was probably their biggest fan to date.

After he was dressed, Freddie kissed Delilah goodbye and headed out the door into the crisp morning air. In the distance, he could make out the features of his landlord walking his way. In a moment of panic, Freddie stood behind a tree along the sidewalk, hoping that he would just keep walking. But alas, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Freddie I know it’s you.” The man said in a gruff voice.

“ _Who_?” Freddie responded in a high-pitched voice.

“Get out from behind the tree, please.”

Freddie sighed and stepped out from behind the tree. “Look, I’m sorry Mr. McKitrick I’ll have your money by Friday.” He tugged at a loose thread on the edge of his jacket sleeve, feeling his face heat up.

“Alright, Freddie, you better. Or else you’re going to have to find another place to stay.”

“Yes sir.” Freddie nodded and continued along his path toward the marketplace.

After his recent firing from Heathrow Airport, Freddie hadn’t been so lucky finding a job. Everything was either too rough or involved some form of cooking, which he was atrocious at. Things would’ve been easier had he stayed home like his mother Jer had often suggested, but his father was keen on having him work as an accountant or lawyer at some stuffy law firm. And there was no way he was going to settle for that. Freddie had his mind on much bigger things. He wanted a rock band of his own, and he had made several attempts. But none that lasted more than a couple months. He wished he could weasel his way into Smile, but all of the normal band positions were filled—and he would stick out like a sore thumb. Not that he already had trouble with that anyway…

“Sorry I’m late, have you sold anything?” Freddie asked Roger as he stepped into the stall from the back.

“Your box of cereal for twenty pence.” Roger said, cocking his brow.

“You didn’t!”

“I did.”

Freddie sat with his arms folded, scowling. “That was my last box you jerk.”

“We’re struggling as it is, Fred! Every little bit counts.”

“I guess every little bit of cereal does, too.”

“Fred, don’t make me kick your—“

“—Hello? Is this real silk?” A blonde woman had approached the stand, her fingers slipping through a blue paisley patterned scarf.

“Yes.” Freddie smiled. “I nicked it from the Queen herself.”

The girl laughed in disbelief and shook her head. “How much?”

Freddie and Roger made subtle eye contact.

“Three pounds.” They said in unison.

“You’re going to regret that price if it is from the Queen.” The girl answered, handing Roger the pound notes.

“Darling, I rarely have regrets.” Freddie laughed. He kept admiring the class and overall presence of the girl. She was certainly beautiful, but the most striking thing was her confidence.

The girl wrapped the scarf around her neck. “As do I.” She smiled before walking off.

Freddie’s head was in a daze, but he was soon brought out of it by Roger flapping the pound notes in his face.

“You’re going to stick me in the eye with that.”

Roger laughed giddily. “I’ll do you a favor and spare you the quote, mate.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and hung his coat on the back of his chair. “You better.”

This was certainly a better day for sales, the duo worked deals from left to right bringing in one of their biggest profits from the stand yet.

A tall bald man with a white beard approached and was looking at a red leather jacket handing on a peg.

“Excuse me,” He started. “is this for men?”

“Men, Woman, children, dogs…” Freddie said.

“Especially ugly cousins.” Roger added.

Freddie elbowed Roger in the side, remembering that he had bought the jacket from his cousin Serena.

The man raised his eyebrows in interest and slipped it off the hanger. It was rather tight and squeaky, and would probably make most passerby choke with laughter.

“How does it look?” He asked Freddie.

“ _Ravishing_ , darling.”

“I’ll take it.”

* * *

 

Biba was home to a number of things: the latest fashion trends, popular hip music, but most of all—girls. Girls simply flocked to this place. It was the first thing Roger noticed after following Freddie inside for once.

“Fred, you do realize that there are more cats than in your apartment in this place, right?”

Freddie looked up from the jacket he was holding and took a good glance around. “Huh. What do you know.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice! And come on, why would you come all this way for that ugly thing?” Roger gestured to the jacket.

Freddie hung the jacket back up, obviously offended. “I come here for clothes, Roger—not for cheap dates.”

A familiar voice rang in Freddie’s ear. “Are you two finding everything okay?”

He turned around to see the blonde girl from their stall earlier and his throat went dry. ”Yes, thank you.”

Roger smiled smugly. “If you need me, I’ll be in the lingerie section.”

Freddie looked to see that Roger had turned his back and snatched the jacket again before heading to the dressing rooms.

He smiled at the unusual pattern and struck a couple poses. He would later rub this in Roger’s face that it fit perfectly well, thank you very much and was not ugly in the slightest, nor could he borrow it even if he begged.

“Knock-knock, everything okay in there?” The girl’s voice sounded again. She looked down at the floor casually to see a pair of white boots from last season’s collection and smiled. She loved a girl with similar tastes.

Freddie opened the door of the dressing stall and the girl’s face changed from a smile to that of shock.

“What? You don’t like it?” He asked.

“Actually,” The girl smiled again. “I like it very much.” She stepped closer to him.

Freddie held his breath in anticipation.

“Most men are too afraid to even set foot in this store, and the fact that you waltz in without abandon proves how secure you are in your masculinity.” She adjusted his collar, her breath tickling the side of his neck.

“W-What’s your name?” Freddie turned to look at her.

“Mary.”

Freddie closed his eyes for a moment, taking it in as if he had received some sacred utterance and before he knew it, her lips were settled on his. His eyes opened wide, believe it or not—Freddie had never kissed a girl before. He had flirted endlessly, gotten close to kissing, even dating—but it had been kind of hard in a boarding school for boys.

“Here’s my number, give me a ring.” She slipped him a piece of paper and winked before leaving the room.

Freddie was dumbfounded.

* * *

 

When Freddie came outside, Roger was smoking a cigarette by the front pillar of the store.

“So, what did you waste our money on?” He said, noticing the bag.

Freddie was still so flustered, he must’ve been scarlet. “Nothing.”

Roger pried a corner of the bag open. ”Let’s see, then.”

“No!” Freddie hurried down the steps.

“What’re you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

Roger ran up to Freddie and snatched the bag up, pulling out the hideous coat.

“You didn’t!”

“I did! And you better not want it after you see how good it looks on me!”

Just then, the slip of paper fell out of the coat pocket with Mary’s number on it and Roger looked as if he’d seen the face of God.

“Fred.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s that?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a receipt?”

“No, you idiot.”

“I figured.”

Roger bent down to reach for it but Freddie pushed him out of the way. “No! It’s mine!”

“I haven’t seen you talk to a girl once outside of work! The only ‘girl’ I’ve ever seen you talk to was Richard from Math class!”

Freddie paused a moment. Ah yes, Richard from math class. He was definitely Freddie’s type. But unfortunately he was spoken for. At least that’s what his black eye told him after his boyfriend had given him a stern talking to outside of the college dorm.

“I-I just want the paper okay? Let me have this one thing!” Freddie grew serious now, and his expression drifted to that of an almost ashamed look.

“What do you mean, Fred?”

“I dunno, Rog. I—I’ve never found any girls interesting before this one. I figured I’d at least give it a go.”

Roger sighed and looked at the clouds. “Damn it why am I such a good person?” He gave Freddie the jacket and the slip of paper.

“Thank you so much Roger, dear.” He kissed his cheek and trotted off with the bag.

Roger groaned, rubbing at his cheek. “Now I have to take a shower to get this off.”


	2. I Want It All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me...

"Who needs you anyway, you tosser!" Brian May, Roger's guitarist spat at their former singer/bassist Tim Staffell.

"Yeah! Get fucked!" Roger slurred, throwing a bottle of brew in his general direction.

"Maybe I will!" Tim shouted over his shoulder on his way to the bus stop.

Roger's mouth hung open stupidly and Brian put a hand on his mate's shoulder.

"We can get through this Roger. There are plenty of bassists in the sea."

Hot tears welled in Roger's eyes. "But none with Tim's talent! How can he just leave us after all we've been through?!"

"Just shows where he stands..." Brian said. He packed up his guitar and slid it in the back of his van. "Plus, you know quite a few cats on the music scene, anyone come to mind?"

Roger's mind was too full of booze and anger to think clearly. "Not at the moment."

"Come 'ead, I'll drop you off at your flat."

Roger nodded and closed the back doors of the van before getting into the passenger seat.

* * *

Freddie had his eyes closed, the scent of sandalwood insistence hung thickly in the air as he imagined himself onstage in front of hundreds. Maybe even thousands. They cheered him on and with every toss of his head or flick of his wrist it was if he were casting a spell on them, his music dancing in the air as it shook the whole theater. This is what he imagines every time he needs to cheer himself up. Especially now as he sat on his broken-down couch in lotus position in an apartment that was far too expensive for him to afford, and rent was due in two days. Perfect. Freddie opened his eyes and looked at the orange ottoman in front of him. Delilah hopped up on it and meowed to get his attention.

"Oh, my dear, you're so deprived. You haven't been pet in nearly twenty minutes! What ever will we do?" Freddie joked, picking up the large cat and stroking her fur. 

There was a gentle knocking at the door. The only person Freddie is used to having over is Roger, and he's usually much more pronounced in his knocking. He let Delilah down and went over to the door, crouching slightly to look through the peep hole. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Beer bottle. Yep. It was Roger.

Freddie opened the door. "What're you doing out so late when it's raining like this? You could catch pneumonia!"

"Calm down mum, I'm fine." Roger rolled his eyes and plopped down on the couch. 

"You don't look fine." Freddie sat across from him in the armchair. "Or...smell...fine." He pinched his nose. "In fact you smell like a bar, Rog." 

"And your apartment smells like some kind of cat-worshiping temple, but I'm not complaining."

Freddie's cheeks flushed. "Seriously, what're you doing here? Are you okay?"

"Tim quit the band."

Freddie gasped and stood. "No!"

"Yeah. He quit after the show this evening. Left me and Brian out in the dust. Joined some quack group called _hump a bong_ or some shit."

Freddie snorted. "That couldn't possibly be the name..." 

"Try me." Rog raised an eyebrow.

"So, does that mean Smile is dead? But you guys have a pretty good following you can't just quit!" Freddie started to pace nervously.

"I might as well quit. What do you think is going to happen? A magical bassist is going to fall right out of the sky and bless us with his magical bass powers? And by chance he can sing, too?"

"Don't be so pessimistic, darling." Freddie's heart was racing. He looked over at his little worn spinet and lifted the dust cover. He ran his fingers over the black ivory and began to pluck out a little melancholy tune. 

Roger turned his head, his interest caught.

"Now, if you need a piano player, I may be able to help you. I was in a band back in the day myself, but it never really went anywhere. Hard to get famous in an isolated Indian boarding school."

Roger grunted. "Well, we don't really use piano that much. Sometimes Brian plays a little something here and there but it's not our focus. Our focus is on vocals and guitar. And we've got guitar." He bit at his thumb nail. "Unless you can sing."

Freddie held his breath. He felt as if he might fall over. He wanted to open his mouth and sing something--anything but his mouth refused to budge and stayed shut. His playing halted.

Roger sighed and stood up. "I should probably get going,"

Freddie turned around to face Roger and watched him head over to the door. "O-Okay. Take my umbrella it's by the door." 

Roger picked up the black umbrella from its case. "Thanks, Fred." He turned and gave a bittersweet smile. "See you soon." 

Freddie smiled back and watched him close the door. Sighing he put his head in his hands. Why didn't he just sing?! He could've been the new frontman of Smile! Why did he always chicken out?! He always reduced himself to the background, the pianist, the tech worker, the curtain closer--always wondering what it would be like in the limelight. Countless daydreams swimming around in his head. 

He sat on the little rickety piano bench and blew out a puff of air before passionately pounding the keys. Flowing vocalizations rang in his throat until words spilled from his mind. 

_Fear me you lords and lady preachers,_

_I descend upon your Earth from the skies._

_I command your very souls you unbelievers_

_Bring before me what is mine_

_The Seven Seas of Rhye!_

This was a song he had been working on for about a month now. He had picked and picked at it in class and fooled around with it when he was bored until it had reached a somewhat finished stage. The pages and napkins on which it was composed were tucked away safe in his sketchbook. 

 _Sister I live and lie for you_  
Mister do and I'll die  
You are mine I possess you  
I belong to you forever

_Oooooh!_

A loud thump started Freddie off of his stool and he turned around to see Roger lying facedown on his doormat. 

"Roger?!"

Roger lifted himself up. "Oh, hi Fred."

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Definitely not listening to whatever you were doing just now, that's for sure. Well, I gotta get going--"

"--You-You heard that?!"

"I mean, it was muffled by the door but what I did hear was fantastic."

Freddie's heart stopped. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's a little Lord of the Rings-y but I can dig it." Roger walked over to Freddie with a big grin on his face. "Welcome to Smile, my big-toothed friend."  He held out a hand for him to shake.

Freddie didn't even bother to cover the grin that spread across his face. He ignored the handshake and went in straight for a hug.

"Now all we need to do is pull a bassist out of thin air." Roger said.

* * *

"Ouch!" A man shook out his electrocuted finger. "Yeah, that's definitely not...right." He prodded at it with a wire-cutting tool, squinting to look into the wall.

"Oh, bollocks. I knew I shouldn't have plugged my amp in in here." Brian sighed and sat down on his couch. "So, how much will I owe you for a new set of plugs?"

The electrician paused. "Well, it's going to be about seven pounds for the supplies and ten for the labor." 

"Alright, I'll get my checkbook."

"Just for future reference if you want to use an amp indoors without blowing your breaker go with one that has a lower wattage like a twenty-eight model instead of the thirty-sevens you're using."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "Oh, that sounds good." He began to write the man a check when something occurred to him. "Wait a minute--why do you know so much about amps?" His breathing caught. "Do you--Do you play?" 

The electrician laughed. "Only on the weekends."

"Don't be so modest, playing is playing--what do you do?"

The electrician blushed slightly. "I can play electric guitar but bass is what really interests me. A lot of people tend to overlook its potential."

Brian felt a twinge of sympathy for the man as he figured people must do the same to him. "How would you like to try playing with my group this Friday night?"

The man's eyebrows raised. "Really?" He laughed. "Why me?"

"I dunno, you're a young chap, and you play the bass! What else do you fancy you'd want to be doing on a Friday night?" 

"...You're right."

Brian handed him the check and smiled. "Meet me here and I'll drive you to the gig."

"Wait--gig? Like a show? For...people?" 

"Yeah."

"I've never--"

"--It's going to be fine. If you don't like it you don't have to do it."

"Okay. Deal." He shook Brian's hand and smiled at him before heading out the door.

"Wait 'till Roger hears about this..."

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
